It’s a quiet town, gray and green and brown
Lived in by men who do not sense the danger
Where the children play, and the women pray
And the old folks sit and watch the passing stranger

It’s a quiet scene, and it’s so serene
Untroubled by the outside situation
And they’re smiled upon, and their lives go on
Generation after sleepy generation

But I hear the horses
I see the sun and moon approaching, for a last eclipse
I hear the horses
I hear the thunder in the wind
And I see the four that ride toward the Apocalypse

It’s a city street where the strangers meet
And pass each other without words of warning
Where the bankers lend, and the buyers spend
And the hustle starts again, with each new morning

Where the salesman lies, where the prices rise
And the warmth of human hearts is almost gone
And the buy and sell is a wishing well
In the shadows of the towers of Babylon

But I hear the horses
I see the sun and moon approaching, for a last eclipse
I hear the horses
I hear the thunder in the wind
And I see the four that ride toward the Apocalypse